Untitled
by Starchild524
Summary: Short EM missing-scene vignette concerning the Numair/Varice relationship, and how that ties into Numair's feelings on Daine and Kaddar.


Author's Note: This was written in response to Challenge 3 at the Seanfhocal Circle of the Dancing Dove -- to write a short piece of prose or poetry about two characters' love, "preferably unrequited."  
  
Ah, the joys of bashing our sheroes' romantic competitors.... This scene is on the barge, right before Numair's delightful confrontation with Kaddar. What do you think?  
  
~~~~~  
  
"You've changed a lot since we were last together, Arram," she tells me.  
  
I sigh and raise my wine glass to the light of the mage-globes overhead, swirling the sweet crimson liquid to see the sparkle in its depths. "How so, Varice?" After some debate, I down the liquor in one swig. Appropriate, I decide.  
  
She looks away briefly. "You're more... serious, for one. You used to be so... playful, and so sweet. You used to sneak up on me from behind all the time." Something flickers in her sky-blue eyes. "You used to have a much more optimistic outlook."  
  
I say nothing. She's right, after all. That was when I was a young and scholarly snob at court, who could go through three girls in a month. And that was with the "serious" ones. That was when I knew nothing about sorrow or betrayal or tragedy... or love. Besides, it's hard to be optimistic on this little trip of ours. I'm hardly this "serious" back home... with other people. And peace negotiations? A definite misnomer. Peace is the last thing that's going to come out of all this for anyone, in any way.  
  
A hand on my knee, delicate fingers teasing. "Arram... I still love you, don't you understand? I always have. I'm trying to get through to you, but you seem so closed off. You won't let me in. Why, Arram?"  
  
I look up into her sweet blue eyes, currently filled with concern. She does look lovely tonight, golden hair pinned up in a tumble of curls, well- curved figure brought out by her azure gown. Any man would drool like a dog at the sight. But... her curls are the work of heated irons and professional attention, I know. The color of her eyes, too flamboyant, too bright... another, milder shade flashes across my mind. I glance over at Daine, who seems to be enjoying the prince's company. How can I hold it against her? Could I let my jealousy hold her down? I force myself to face the woman now in front of me.  
  
I look away, knowing fully how cold I must seem. She asks me why I don't understand, but it's not me. She says she loves me; what does that mean? When we were together ten years ago, didn't it bring us as much pain as pleasure? True, we lasted the longest as any time I can remember; that fact alone seems to make her think we had something transcendent, something eternal. I try not to laugh bitterly. It's been ten *years*, and life goes on. It's not as if she's been sleeping alone every night that I've been gone, no more than I have. Just yesterday I saw her in the garden by the fishpond, with another man, a noble by his clothes. Not bad-looking, so I can't blame her. Besides, I didn't *see* that much. They were just talking, if a bit urgently, and when he put a hand on her shoulder she looked down and said something inaudible. He nodded and kissed her -- she didn't respond much -- and walked away. Given her attentions to me, it seems plausible that she was telling the other man to stay away, at least temporarily. I should be honored, I suppose. But what does she think could come of it -- with us? I leave in less than a week.  
  
It has rarely meant much to me whom I share my bed with, though more with some than with others. Gods know if I *did* commit to each one, like they always seem to do, I'd be in for perpetual heartbreak each time it ended. No wonder they call women emotional. But here, now, with Varice -- so what if we do spend the night together? She has other interests, and so do I.  
  
I take her lily-soft hand, mechanically. "I'm sorry," I say. A perfunctory apology; I guess I picked it up from listening to all the lies that go back and forth in the conference rooms. "I've been... preoccupied. There's so much going on."  
  
Laughter ripples through the scented night air. A pure, clear sound, like the waters of a mountain stream. I turn to look in that direction, knowing fully who it is. I'd know the sound of her voice in my sleep. Daine is laughing with the emperor's heir, apparently over yet another of Kitten's charming stunts. The prince is definitely enjoying *her* company. Something twists inside me. Daine won't recognize the signs, the unspoken declarations of his interest. She's so *young*. I don't doubt the prince has far more romantic experience, and Daine would seem such a tempting conquest.  
  
"Daine and His Highness seem to be getting along well," Varice says brightly. It was always her nature, that cheer, as if the world existed only to sweeten her life. Well, *that* sentiment has certainly been fulfilled, hasn't it?  
  
"That they do."  
  
Her gaze returns to me. "She seems like a nice girl."  
  
"That she is." Again, it's hard to keep from laughing at the irony. "She's also very kind and sweet, and strong, and unbelievably stubborn, and a genius with a bow. And very smart...." I look back at the young pair, in animated conversation. My free hand clenches into a fist. *She* can't see it, but to one of my experience, it's plain as day. "And very young."  
  
Varice is silent, blue eyes searching me out. I don't know what she's looking for, much less what she'll find. "You seem close," she says finally.  
  
I don't stop watching Daine. "That we are." How can I explain it to a woman like Varice?  
  
"Arram...." She pulls her hand away, holding it protectively in her lap as though I showed a threat. Her full, rosy lower lip quivers, and I know she's hurt. In response, I feel only a strange indifference. *I'm* not responsible; I just told her the truth. A truth she can't understand, even if I could explain. And... Arram? The name sounds so alien.  
  
I say nothing. This is the kind of relationship I've always had. It's who I am.  
  
But gods curse me a thousand times if I let that happen to Daine.  
  
The northern lilt of her laughter reaches us again. I stand abruptly, pushing back my chair. "Excuse me." It sounds so formal, so distant.  
  
"Arram?" Her creamy brow furrows, and she looks up at me almost fearfully.  
  
"I'll be back in a minute," I reassure her, and head towards Daine and Kaddar's table. 


End file.
